


Light Gave Into Shadow

by Catchclaw



Series: Mental Mimosa [281]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: AU Where Earth Worships Asgard, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Biting, Gods Who Walk Among Men, M/M, Marking, Possessive Behavior, Prayer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 08:47:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19460521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: There’s a bite on Loki’s shoulder, a big one, one that when it was new burned in a raw sort of red.





	Light Gave Into Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: Possessiveness. Prompt from this [generator](https://colormayfade.tumblr.com/generator).
> 
> And if you are new to the Mental Mimosa series, I strongly suggest you read an important note about how MM works [here](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1012767).

There’s a bite on Loki’s shoulder, a big one, one that when it was new burned in a raw sort of red. It hadn’t hurt in a bad way--Thor would never hurt him thus--but it had ached for days afterwards, a small echo of the way his entrance did, sometimes, after a night spent speared on his brother’s cock.

He had kept the bite covered, shielded it from the people’s eyes, those of the other gods, but of course it hadn’t made any difference. Thor’s scent suffused him, oozed out of all of his pores; there could be no question what they had done together at last, not question of whom he belong to--as if, on that last point, there had ever been room for doubt.

The prayers that came after were startled at first. It had been a lifetime since any gods had coupled in this way, in ways that echoed those of the people who worshipped them, but then who did the people think had first instructed them?

To his surprise, though, after the initial waves of confusion had faded, it seemed that most who bent a knee towards Asgard rather liked the idea of their gods suffused with passion, overtaken by the same base needs and essential desires that marked the humans’ time on this earth. They were comforted, some, by the notion that even the almighty Thor was made stronger by the presence of a partner, by a bond with a mate, by the unshakable knowledge that there was one being above all to whom he was devoted and was, without question, wholly devoted to him.

And so Loki was, happily. Until he heard the prayers of an extraordinary man.

He was a leader, this man, in spirit if not in practice. He did not sit at the head of any council, he did not own any lands. But he was beautiful and strong and the sort of person that others sought out for guidance, or as a shoulder to lean on, and no matter when they came to him, the man always opened his door and his hand.

The man was called Steven and his mind, when Loki stroked his fingers through its web, was far more intricate than most others the god had have deemed worthy to touch. It excited him. It intrigued him. He had difficulty explaining to his brother how much.

“You and your humans,” Thor said affably, pliant now that they were both sated. “Your fascination with them never ceases to amaze me.”

Loki shifted, the torn edges of his gown catching the cream of the sheets. “We’re not talking of humanity writ large, brother. I’m speaking--as you’d know if you’d been listening--of one particular man.”

“A representative sample, _min kjærlighet_.”

“Don’t mock me.”

Thor rumbled something sweet and turned his head, nuzzled the long-healed bruise of his bite and kissed it then, a soft stroke of first his lips, then his tongue. “I’m not mocking you,” he murmured. “I simply don’t understand you. What in the Realms makes this creature above all the others unique?”

The answer was a long time in coming, for such a kiss made Loki’s body asked for things that Thor’s was again ready to provide. They coupled, slowly this time, the last of Loki’s gown being not torn asunder but lifted by blunt, gentle fingers until Loki could take no more and yanked it himself aside and bared himself to his brother, tempted him to bury himself far inside.

“I won’t know what it is until I speak with him,” Loki said some time later, Thor’s seed still warm on the inside of his thighs. “That’s the only answer I have for you as of yet.”

Thor sighed and pulled him closer, his fingers sliding gently through the mess. “I would prefer if you didn’t. It never goes quite right when we visit them. You know that. They never quite seem to understand, even when we speak to them in their tongue.”

“Tsk. I have a plan for that, _bror_.”

“And what is that?”

“It’s my plan not to lean so much on speech.”

A chuckle. “Is that so?”

Loki grinned and curled into his brother’s embrace. “So it is, my darling,” he said. “So it is.”

*****

He slipped down the the next evening to the part of Earth where Steven made his home, a place where the air was not as cold as Loki’s blood would have liked but where the sky was wide, as it should be, wide and open and Loki’s favorite shade of blue--the very same found in his brother’s eyes.

The god was dressed in a favored guise: that of a human woman, tall and thin as his own body was, but rounded pleasantly by soft, endless curves. He wrapped this body in black and over top it, a thick green cloak, its hood pulled gently over the long, dark waves that were his own. He was in his way, he knew, quite lovely, and it amused him to collect the darting stares he received as he walked down the beaten turns of the town’s main street and followed it just to the edge of the forest, to a gray stone cottage with a cheery red door. He raised a hand to it and pulled the hood close with the other.

He wondered if Steven would recognize him. It had happened before, in time of the their father, the first All-Father, humans seeing past the veil and calling the gods by name who showed themselves at their door. Odin, the old goat, had taken advantage of such awe more than once and had the godlings to prove it, women and men who grew up with great confidence and power only to find the earth itself so small as to be smothering. Some, the legends said, had gone mad from it, being half god, half man, and had cut their throats out of eagerness to flee for the Great Beyond.

There was no danger of that now, even if Loki’s plan were to unfold as he intended. His body, unlike those of the human women with whom his father had lain, answered only to him; he would never be with child from human or god unless he wished it. No, no matter what happened this night, as light gave into shadow, the outcome would be his to play.

He knocked again, more firmly this time, and he heard footsteps from far inside the house. The sound made something in him shimmer, that base part of him feel soft and weak.

And then the door opened and the face of a man appeared. Steven. His hair was tousled and his face was of high color, as if he’d been roused out of bed. In his hand, a long brush covered in paint.

“Yes?”

“Are you Steven, son to Sara Rogers?”

“I am.” He cocked his head a little. A frown touched his forehead. “May I ask who it is that inquires?”

Loki dipped his head. “I am Loki, son to none. My mother”--here he let his voice fade--“her name is unknown.”

Steven’s stance shifted and he opened the door a bit wider, his face losing some of its suspicion. “My lady, you need feel no shame for that here.”

He looked up through heavy lids. “I know, sair. That’s why I’ve come to you. I have friends who...well, they tell me that you are kind. They tell me that if anyone can assist me in my moment of most wretched circumstances, then, sair, it’s you.”

“Who are your friends, lady?”

“I’d rather not say. I hope you understand.” He bit his lip and cast his eyes away, allowed his expression to tremble. "They’ve risked enough of their name as it is.”

Steven studied him for a moment longer and then, lo and behold, he smiled and stepped to the side. “Then I shall not keep you in the cold any longer. Please, my lady Loki. Come inside.”


End file.
